In a svelte 893 words, Michael looks back on a night spent out on the town with a friend’s 22-year-old maid who, had he mustered up the courage, could have easily become much more than a distant pen pal, which in the end, was what she became.

He really captures that sort of odd romanticism that seems to only exist during travel. That solace in a connection in a strange surrounding, the unique energy derived from endless possibilities, the excitement of discovery. It’s addicting, like travel itself, but truly unique. But if you think about it, travel does spawn a disproportionatley high number of sucessful relationships, more than, say, book clubs or grocery store encounters.